Here you will find the Poem Thursday Before Easter of poet John Keble
"O holy mountain of my God, "How do thy towers in ruin lie, "How art thou riven and strewn abroad, "Under the rude and wasteful sky!" `Twas thus upon his fasting-day The "Man of Loves" was fain to pray, His lattice open toward the western breeze, Mourning the home that still his yearning fancy sees. Oh for a love like Daniel?s now, To wing to Heaven but one strong prayer For GOD?S new Israel, sunk as low, Yet flourishing to sight as fair, As Sion in her height of pride, With queens for handmaids at her side, With kings her nursing-fathers, throned high, And compass?d with the world?s too tempting blazonry. `Tis true, nor winter stays thy growth, Nor torrid summer?s sickly smile; The flashing billows of the south Break not upon so lone an isle, But thou, rich vine, art grafted there, The fruit of death or life to bear, Yielding a surer witness every day, To thine Almighty Author and his stedfast way. Oh grief to think, that grapes of gall Should cluster round thine healthiest shoot God?s herald prove a heartless thrall, Who, if he dar?d, would fain be mute! Even such is this bad world we see, Which, self-condemn?d in owning Thee, Yet dares not open farewell of Thee take, For very pride, and her high-boasted Reason?s sake. What do we the? if far and wide Men kneel to CHRIST, the pure and meek, Yet rage with passion, swell with pride, Have we not sill our faith to seek? Nay?but in stedfast humbleness Kneel on to Him, who loves to bless The prayer that waits for Him; and trembling strive To keep the lingering flame in thine own breast alive Dark frown?d the future even on him, The loving and beloved Seer, What time he saw, through shadows dim, The boundary of th? eternal year; He only of the sons of men Nam?d to be heir of glory then. Else had it bruis?d too sore his tender heart To see GOD?S ransom?d world in wrath and flame depart. Then look no more: or closer watch Thy course in Earth?s bewildering ways, For every glimpse thine eye can catch Of what shall be in those dread days: So when th?Archangel?s word is spoken, And Death?s deep trance for ever broken, In mercy thou may?st feel the heavenly hand, And in thy lot unharm?d before thy Saviour stand.